


Riding The Frosting Train

by crimandclove



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 14:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1713413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimandclove/pseuds/crimandclove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski had no interest in learning how to bake cakes. Stiles likes his cakes premade, store bought, and cold. Yet after one little white lie, suddenly he's the Pied Piper of cakes for Beacon Hills. </p><p>His secret? All of his cakes come from the box. His frosting too. </p><p>No one ever picks up on this until the only man he's ever met that has a talent for baking, Derek Hale, rolls back into town and insinuates himself into Stiles' life, hoping to figure out what Stiles is up to.</p><p>Will he find out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Riding The Frosting Train

**Author's Note:**

> This story comes from me reading a post over on ONTD about a woman who makes cake from the box but swears it is from scratch and no one knows the difference. I just found it hilarious. I also needed to write something happy because my other fic is making me so angsty. 
> 
> If you're looking for an update on that, I should be done by tomorrow (maybe).
> 
> Love and light!
> 
> Edit: 6/18: noticed a few spelling errors. Fixed!

It had all started out as a joke, Stiles swears. The truth is he had never had an interest in baking. Both his mother and his father were a fan of buying pre-made baked goods and putting them in the freezer, making the frosting cold and delicious. The only time Stiles had ever been interested in baking is when Derek Hale started to enter the pie-making contest in the fifth grade. He was a bit ostentatious, but his berry surprise pie had won the summer before he took off for parts unknown. The accidental house fire hadn’t harmed anything or anyone besides the house, but it had spooked the shit out of Derek. He had apparently moved east to live with his sister Laura and their weird Uncle Peter. Stiles still had dreams about that pie and look of sheer happiness on Derek’s face when he beat old Mrs. Finstock that year. Her pie had been good but not extraordinary, not like Derek’s had been. Stiles should know, he had eaten the rest of the pie when everybody was congratulating Derek on his win.

Besides his love for pie (and Derek), Stiles had never seen a reason to try baking. Stiles was looking forward to a pre-made, cool and perfect sheet cake from Costco when tragedy struck. Mrs. McCall had been in a pretty bad car accident and had broken an arm and the other wrist. Scott was devastated at the thought of a store-bought cake, especially when Melissa had bought a special pan to make the cake look like a lacrosse stick and everything. 

“Stiles, you don’t get it. It was going to look like a lacrosse stick.” Scott whined at Stiles as they played HALO in Scott’s living room.

“Scott, I’m pretty sure that any grocery store could make a cake that looked like that. Wal-Mart could make a cake like that. Costco could sure make a cake like that.” Stiles reflexively licked his lips. 

“It isn’t the same though. I like the little lumps, the imperfections. It is what makes the cake. Plus it isn’t just from a box, it’s made with heart, and soul, and love –“ Scott kept going.

Stiles sighed, paused the game and put down the controller. “Give me the special tin.”

Scott wrinkled his forehead. “Why?”

“Because if you’re going to complain about this damn cake for the rest of our natural lives if it isn’t homemade, I’ll make the damn thing myself.” Stiles sighed.

“Thank you, Stiles!” Scott grabbed him and swung him around. “It doesn’t even have to taste that good! You making it would be enough.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles replied, patting Scott on the back. “I’ll do my best. No promises it’ll be anything but shitty.”

That night, Stiles headed to the store after getting a list of directions and a twenty dollar bill from Mrs. McCall about how to make a great, easy, from scratch red velvet cake and seven minute frosting. Stiles also ordered a bunch of food coloring from Amazon (thank you Prime Gods) so that he could dye the cake a darker burgundy to match their school color. Even though the dye was expensive, he was sure he could find a use for it when he went to college. He had always wanted to try making green eggs and ham. Stiles had four days to make this cake. 

As he was heading towards the end of the cake making aisle, he looked at a box of cake mix that was on sale. It wasn’t store brand and out of sheer nerves, he picked up that box and its matching frosting, which was also on sale. He then sped through the self-checkout and went home.

He then spent the next four hours on the internet, reading ways to doctor up cake mixes.

The next morning he ran to the store and picked up canned buttermilk, two boxes of chocolate pudding, dark chocolate cocoa powder and another cake mix. He paid with the change he had from the day before and sped home, anxious to see if he could make this work.

\---

Four days later and Scott was salivating over the cake. Stiles had used only the cake mix and instead of using pudding in the cake had put an extra egg, some vanilla and added both regular and dark cocoa powder into the mix. He had dyed it the perfect burgundy and had even dyed the net part of the cake’s frosting burgundy to match. It wasn’t Cake Boss or anything but it did look better than Stiles’ first attempt. He had liked pudding, just not that much. Scott wasn’t a fan either. The only reason Stiles and Scott were friends in the first place is because Scott had traded him the pudding his mom had sent for Stiles’ cheese crackers the first day of second grade. 

Scott did let out a single, solitary tear when he had taken the first bite of cake. “This is so good, Stiles.” He said, the burgundy cake mashed in between his white teeth. “Like, this is almost as good as mom’s.”

“It is pretty tasty, I’ll admit.” His mom concurred from the other side of the table. Isaac just made eye contact, took a huge forkful into his mouth, and nodded. That was all he would ever get from Isaac and he was cool with that. Isaac had to retake a few classes over the summer to graduate because of the whole dad situation. His father had finally been arrested six months ago and so the school system let Isaac take time off to readjust and San Francisco State still held a place for both him and Scott in the fall. The three had secured an apartment on the side closer to Berkley but it was something at least. Stiles refused to live in a dorm because he disliked new people and sometimes had night terrors, Isaac still had frequent nightmares and Scott experienced bouts of sleep walking and sleep eating. It was safest to keep them all quarantined to people they knew and liked.

“Would you make me a cake?” Kira asked, springing Stiles from his reverie. Her plate was already clear and if Stiles hadn’t seen a smudge of frosting on the corner of her plate he would have sworn she hadn’t even had a piece yet. 

“Uh….” Stiles said, looking at his own father, who shrugged. His piece of cake was smaller than the rest.

“I texted my dad. He says he’ll give you fifty bucks if you make me a cake for my family party next weekend.” She held up her phone.

And that’s how it all began.

\---

That summer Stiles ended up making cakes for almost everybody’s party. He made cake for Kira (German Chocolate cake with extra dark chocolate cocoa powder, extra frosting), Allison (white cake with white frosting tinted violet), Isaac (vanilla cake with vanilla frosting), Jackson (devil’s food with strawberry frosting and actual strawberries on the inside and on top of the cake) and Lydia (cupcakes for her Fourth of July party – blue velvet with dyed royal blue vanilla frosting, white cake with vanilla frosting dyed bright white and red velvet cake with dyed red vanilla frosting). Stiles used cake mix every single time. He learned that if people liked extra chocolate that adding dark chocolate powder to chocolate cake made them happier. That blue raspberry was a nasty flavor for a cake. Four ‘large’ eggs were better than three. Fresh fruit made the cake look better and got him a $200 tip from Whittemore Senior.

He assumed that was it.

\---

Somehow that led him to baking for Scott’s birthday in September. He made a bundt cake for Thanksgiving. Christmas cupcakes lead to a overlarge New Years’ cake for Lydia’s New Years bash. It had cost her $500 dollars and the promise of free alcohol. It had taken him all day but in the end it looked great and had cost him under $20. 

He had stolen two bottles of champagne from the party and had tried to make a batch of champagne cupcakes with seven-minute frosting from scratch. It had taken four tries but he eventually had twenty four cupcakes that he had dyed ivory, the frosting a light pink. Lydia had lit up when he had brought them over. She had winced through the first cupcake but had admitted the second one (and later the third) were magnificent.

He only baked from scratch for her.

\---

Four years later and Stiles had come back to Beacon Hills with two degrees – one in criminology, one in chemistry – and he didn’t bother looking for a part time job. His dad had offered him work filing at the stations and four cake orders had come in within an hour of him being him and he saw no reason to deny them. 

His rules were simple –

\- Nothing too fancy  
\- No fondant  
\- No watching

Eventually Stiles figured he would be found out but until then he was riding the frosting train. He had successfully gone without a job the whole last year of college due to his fake cakes. He had even made the cake for his father and Melissa’s wedding. Lydia had approved the use of her champagne cupcakes and the best part was? No one suspected that the frosting of the actual wedding cake was Betty Crocker, the cake mix itself Duncan Hines. He had a whole Instagram devoted to his cakes.

This meant he stocked up on cake mix outside of city limits, frosting piled up in his closet at school like some people collect liquor bottles. He had managed to swing a house-sitting gig in the middle of his junior year, which meant that he could use their kitchen as much as he wanted. The Cabots were never home – book people – but if he left them leftover cake in the fridge and watered their plants, they never bothered to check the garbage. And no one ever got the address of the house he sat. His worries about people nosing through his garbage were over.

After all of this, the Beacon Hills Gazette had interviewed him, calling him the ‘next big thing’ to come out of Beacon Hills. He didn’t feel like he was comparable to Reese Witherspoon in ‘Sweet Home Alabama’. All Stiles wanted was for people to like his cakes and keep paying him for them. When grilled on why he did it all himself, his answer simply was “I get nervous when people watch”. The Gazette had eaten it up – social Stiles Stilinski scared of someone watching him bake – and the whole town knew better.

Until Derek Hale reappeared and asked him, “Can I help you with your cakes?”

\---

To say that Derek Hale had changed a lot in ten years was an understatement. He had gone from fresh-faced high school junior to incredibly scruffy, harlequin romance cover hottie. That was his exact text to Lydia, who answered back, _Who the fuck is Derek Hale? You mean Cora and Laura’s brother?_

Lydia had spent half of freshman year of high school at some elite boarding school in Monaco. No one ever asked about what had happened or why she suddenly came back. By the time she had come back from Europe, Derek had hitchhiked all the way to New York. 

**Yes** Stiles answered. 

_Then hop on it for once and stop texting me._

The thing was is that Stiles couldn’t. Derek had shown up as Stiles was on the way to his car to the Cabots’ house, a vial of vanilla stuffed in his pocket. Deputy Parrish was a sucker for super-tart vanilla cupcakes and he had to make sure his dad wasn’t eating red meat somehow. The sudden appearance of his childhood crush (sorry Lydia) had reverted him into a child. Which meant slamming the door in Derek’s face.

Stiles took a deep breath. He could do this. He reopened the door and Derek was still standing there, staring at his hands. “Sorry, I was just a little surprised. I was on my way out.”

“I didn’t mean to –“ Derek cut himself off, turning around. “I’ll leave.”

“Wait, Derek!” Stiles called. Fuck fuck fuck, Stiles thought as he walked after Derek. What are you doing, Stiles? He accosted himself mentally. He cannot see you bake. This man made pie crust from scratch when he was sixteen. Stiles had burned his first cake and he had followed the directions straight off the internet.

“You know who I am?” Derek asked, his head turned back towards Stiles.

“Yeah, I was like, obsessed with you – your pies when I was younger. I thought they were so awesome.” Stiles saw a blush run down Derek’s neck. “I’m not really, y’know, in business for cakes – “

“My parents mailed me a cake of yours when I broke my leg last year,” Derek cut him off.

“Legally.” Stiles finished, rolling his eyes. So dramatic. “So I can’t hire you but I can give you a bit of the profits if you’re any good with frosting?” Stiles was always looking to improve his business and he could, in theory, lay down the money for good frosting. Plus he had Scott and Allison’s wedding in a month. He did want his cake to top his last one. “Like, fondant and flowers and shit. I suck at it.”

Derek nodded but a small smile flashed quickly across his face. 

Stiles was fucked. 

\---

“So why can’t I just come watch you bake again?” Derek asked, hip propped against the desk Stiles had acquisitioned for himself at the station.

“I get people shy. You should see me, I’m a super klutz. The first time I baked a cake for anyone I ended up covered in cocoa powder and eggs because I tripped over my own shoelaces.” Stile now wore house slippers when he baked. He felt like an asshole but it is what it is.

“And so you’re going to bring me the cooled cakes and then I frost them and drive them back to you?” Derek snorted. “You’re fucking crazy, that’s what you are. And power hungry.”

“What?” Stiles choked out.

“If you think you can start a bakery with that attitude –“ Derek continued on.

“I’m not starting a bakery!” Stiles interjected. “I’m just making some side money so I can work on having enough for grad school without loans. I hired you because I fucking suck at frosting cakes. I have had to use –“ Stiles caught himself.

“Use?” Derek asked, impatient.

“Use two whole bowls of frosting for a sheet cake. A one layer sheet cake. A 12 by 9, Derek. If you want to start a bakery, you’ll have no competition from me. As soon as this frosting train pulls into the station I am happy with leaving her there.”

Derek looked curious but withheld his information. “Why don’t you just text me when you’re done and I’ll swing by your house and frost them there?”

Stiles deflected. “I, uh, house sit and use their house’s kitchen. No one knows where I am.”

“So I’ll just come over there then.” Derek commented.

“I’ll, uh, ask them?” It came out more of a question to Derek then a statement. “I’ll ask them.”

\---

The Cabots said yes. Stiles was f u c k e d fucked.

\---

By the time the wedding cake was underway, Stiles and Derek had a system. Derek didn’t come over unless Stiles texted, but he got there in record time when he did. Stiles had all the accessories and ingredients ready and he sat back and watched Derek frost. 

The TV was always on for background noise – it helped the ADHD if Stiles was watching a movie he’d seen sixteen times while baking – but with Derek there sometimes it led to conversation.

Derek had gone to culinary school and specialized in baking and frosting. Derek was considering letting his parents buy out the old donut shop on Walnut and using it as a bakery. Beacon Hills didn’t have one due to the woman who owned it dying and Costco opening for all of the cake needs you could possibly have. The grocery stores had cakes too so it wasn’t a hassle. People would like Derek’s cakes, Stiles thought. Derek was fantastic at what he did.

So when Scott and Allison had asked for a cake, a groom’s cake, champagne cupcakes for both the rehearsal dinner and for favors, and a vegan cake for Allison’s weird friends from Seattle. Stiles called in the reinforcements. 

“So,” Stiles said to Derek three days before the wedding, “I’ve noticed you’re really interested in opening a bakery.” Derek didn’t say anything but his skin did pale a little bit. “So let’s test it out. You can make all of the base mixes for the cakes and I’ll come in after and we can decide what else we’ll put in. I’ll do the cupcakes since we need about a billion of them. If you can make this cake, Derek, you can make it as a baker in Beacon Hills. I’ve told everyone who has needed a cake that I’m not doing them anymore after the wedding.” Derek made eye contact, his hazel eyes wide with confusion. “I told them that you’ll be the person they should talk to. Most of them will be at this wedding. Now hop to it.”

Derek looked dumbfounded. 

“Derek?” Stiles asked, grabbing his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Derek snapped out of it once Stiles grabbed him. “Yes. I am… Yeah.” He gave Stiles another bewildered look. “Where are your recipes?” Derek asked.

Well, fuck. 

“I want you to use your recipes, Derek. Make marble, make devil’s food, make red velvet, make angel food. You do it from your heart, from your mind.”

Nice save, Stilinski.

“I’ll have to go grab my recipe book then.” Derek said, reaching for his keys on the table. 

“Fantastic!” Stiles shouted. “Sorry, that was loud. I’ll come with you, we can go to your place and then go shopping!”

\---

Stiles did enjoy food shopping. He did shop for his add-ins in town, so going to the Whole Foods with Derek wasn’t weird. Derek, however, was a weird shopper. He bought the mid-high range vanilla, the food dye that was mostly made up of organic matter. His fingers brushed the strawberries, wrote the label for cocoa powder neatly. It was baffling to see an actual baker do the thing Stiles had faked for almost five years.

It made Stiles want to cry. And also throw up because he didn’t want to spend that much on cocoa powder when there was plenty Hershey’s Dark Chocolate at home but he didn’t want to spoil Derek’s moment. Plus Lydia was paying for the cake so they had a $3,000 budget that they got to pocket if they didn’t spend all of it.

The champagne cost five times what the groceries ended up being.

\---

The Cabots’ kitchen was big enough so that Derek and Stiles could work opposite each other on different projects. Derek sifted flour while Stiles took out the egg yolks, Derek measured the cocoa while Stiles poured the champagne. Stiles had to make 50 cupcakes by Friday, the night of the rehearsal dinner, and 750 more for Saturday’s reception. 

By the time all of the layers were cooling for the main cake, Stiles had 300 done. He had a variety – regular, pink champagne, chocolate champagne. 

“Those are beautiful, Stiles.” Derek commented as Stiles sliced strawberries to put on some of cupcakes.

“Thanks. They’re the only thing I really know how to bake.” Derek looked at him and Stiles realized that he had just admitted he was a fraud. “Like, I could make these babies in my sleep is what I mean. Everything else I’m stuck to a recipe or a cookbook with, but these are like breathing to me now.”

“They’re pretty complicated though. Egg yolks, champagne, all touchy things that you seem to handle so well.” Derek commented, picking up a knife to slice strawberries with Stiles. 

Huh. Stiles had never thought of that. “Well for me it’s like when I make my additions – I’m not really thinking about how much and why, I’m thinking of the person’s face when they eat it, y’know?” He had once done a funeral cake and the deceased’s favorite color was green, so he had made a mini-vanilla cake for the widow and had given it to her at the wake. It looked like all of the other cupcakes and cakes, but when she bit into it and saw that Kelly green, she had lit up like the Fourth of July. “The first time I made these, Lydia had commissioned me for this big party and I had hated the cake I made. The frosting was runny when we got there, I had to doctor it up with a Ziploc bag full of frosting. But I stole some champagne and made them for her for her birthday and I spent the whole time thinking about what her face would look like when she realized I had made something unique for her.”

“You must really love her then.” Derek said quickly, his shoulders tense. He never got this way unless Lydia was brought up. Apparently she had invaded the space in his family’s life that had been his. Stiles just thought he was being a big baby about that. 

“She’s a great friend. Plus she tips out the ass so I don’t have to work my ass off, you know? We both have big paychecks coming to us.” Derek’s shoulders dropped a bit. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.” Derek poured his cut strawberries into the bowl for freezing. “I think I’m going to head home, all of the sugar smells are giving me a headache.”

“Night, Derek.” Stiles called as Derek went to his Camaro.

“Night Stiles.” Derek called back.

Stiles realized that was the first time anyone had seen him bake. Ever. He didn’t mind it that much.

\---

Friday came upon them like a summer storm – crazy and unchangeable. The delivery people wanted the all of the cake done by 8 PM. Stiles was best man so he had to leave at 5 PM at the latest. It was 4:30 and all Stiles had left to frost were seventy five of his fucking cupcakes. Vegan cake? Banana covered and ready to go. Four level tier cake with additions to the inside of both the mixes and the layers, covered in lavender frosting and fondant orchids? Done. The only thing left to finish was Stiles’ cupcakes. Seventy five of them, to be exact. Stiles just couldn’t leave his real masterpieces here, even if it was Derek frosting them.

“Stiles, go, I can take care of this.” Derek sighed from behind Stiles as he changed the icing on a pair of matching chocolate champagne cupcakes.

“I know you can but these are my babies.” Stiles whined, smearing the frosting a little too hard so it fell onto the countertop. “And I’m not going to be able to concentrate until I see they are all done and packed up and safe.”

“Stiles, I can do it. This is what you hired me to do. I’ll even take pictures if you want me to.” Derek huffed from somewhere near his ear.

“You would?” Stiles said, his had whipping around quickly. “That would mean so much to me, Derek. I just need to see them go.” They were his real work.

“I know, they’re ‘the one thing you can bake’.” Derek teased.

Stiles stuck his tongue out. “These two are supposed to be for Scott and Allison specifically though. They’re layered chocolate and plain champagne cupcakes. I was trying to do their initials in these edible pearl things but …” Stiles sighed and watched the lavender frosting drip down.

“I’ve got it.” Derek whispered in his ear. “Take the cupcakes for tonight and go.”

\---

When Stiles finally pulled himself away from the party around 8 PM, he was surprised to see he had 14 snapchats from username dewreckrules. He opened them and watched as Derek detailed the cupcakes while on snapchat, packed them up, showed Stiles all of the plain white boxes with A&S on them, as Derek sang a bad rendition of ‘I Just Can’t Wait To Be King’, the caterers ringing the doorbell, the caterers picking up the boxes, the caterers packing the boxes, the caterers shutting the car door, the caterers leaving to a rousing rendition of the ‘Goodbye’ song from _The Sound Of Music_.

Stiles sent a picture of his face back and a thumb’s up. _See you tomorrow, date!_ A second one followed of Stiles smiling that had a sloppy ‘thank you’ written over his eyes.

\---

The wedding was a total success. The cake was perfect, the reception was going well and it was almost cake cutting time. Derek had somehow managed to get his right hand into Stiles’ right back pocket of this suit over the course of this wedding. Stiles had hoped that Derek was maybe into him after all of the huffing he had done about Lydia, and the kiss he got after the ceremony secured that Derek was a billion percent into him. 

Stiles Stilinski. The Fake Bake-r.

“One minute Derek. I’ve gotta go tell Lydia something.” Derek gave him the stink eye but let him walk away after a cheek kiss.

Stiles slid right into Lydia’s path and offered her a dance. She didn’t refuse and they began to slowly turn around the room. “Hey, Lydia, can I tell you a secret?” Stiles said, leaning in.

“Yes, of course.” Lydia whispered back.

“Well, every cake I’ve made before tonight, barring your champagne cupcakes …” Stiles paused, looking up to wink at Derek. Derek went cherry red.

Lydia stepped on his foot. “Yes, Stiles?”

“Well every single cake I’ve made tonight besides the champagne cupcakes, all of them have come from a box.”

Lydia squawked and hit him in the chest. “Are you shitting me?” She whispered back.

“Nope. I’ve just done a lot of Googling over the years, added and subtracted. It’s why I’ve never let anyone see me bake. Why Derek made the cakes tonight.”

“Why those first couple of batches of champagne cupcakes were so subpar.” Lydia said, her eyes narrowed at him. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Well, firstly, no one will believe you. Secondly, I’ve rode this frosting train into the station. Now I’m going to go hop onto the Derek one. Thirdly, one taste of that cake and you’re going to realize that he would put me out of business.” With that, the wedding planner came to take Lydia by the shoulder, her mouth still wide open. Stiles waved as they walked away.

It was cake cutting time.


End file.
